


Coming Home

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Het, PWP, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver gets turned on watching Romilda do housework.  And she knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HP-Humpdrabbles 2013 Humpfest. Wish granted for Mugglechump. Fills prompts "appreciation of curves", "his hand warm on her back as he leans down to speak in her ear", "forgiveness/make-up sex (not related to cheating)", and "housework as a turn on".

Oliver returned from Puddlemere's European exhibition tour to Celestina Warbeck being played at top volume and knew he'd been forgiven. He and Romlida had a blazing row before he left and until that moment, he'd been unsure of his welcome.

It was like this: Romilda liked listening to vapid pop music while she cleaned house. Oliver loved watching her do housework, and she knew it. He was already half-hard, just thinking about her mopping the floor.

The front room looked spotless with nary a speck of dust to be seen. He would find Romilda deeper in the house somewhere. The short corridor that led to the dining room was clean, the carpet runner hoovered and the wood floor gleaming. The downstairs toilet shone, smelling faintly of the lemon cleaner Romilda favoured.

Considering his remaining options, Oliver decided against the bedroom—she'd have cleaned there first--leaving the kitchen. He descended the steps and found her on her knees with her arse in the air. Her back was to the doorway as she swung her lush hips in snug denims back and forth to the beat. Her long, dark hair was bound back in a kerchief and she wore one of his old school uniform shirts.

Merlin, he wanted to take her right there on the floor.

The next thing he knew, he was kneeling at her side and sliding his hot palm down her back, following the curve of her spine to cup her arsecheek. "Romilda," he said huskily. She straightened up, pushing back a strand of hair with her wrist. Her violet eyes showed not surprise but pure lust.

Oliver devoured her with kisses, helping her up. The scrub brush in her hand clattered to the floor. He ripped her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, and pulled loose the knot at her waist. She bit his earlobe as he pinched her nipples through her bra. Unfastening her denims, he shoved them and her knickers roughly down. He sucked at the pulse point on the side of her neck, and slid two fingers between her folds to find that she was dripping wet.

“Been thinking about me?” he asked, lifting her to the counter.

“And not much else,” she confirmed breathily, kicking her trousers off.

He freed his erection from his trousers and thrust into her with one stroke. Romilda wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to move.

“Wait, love, you're so tight, so hot...” He leaned his forehead against hers.

“Shut up and fuck me, dammit,” she growled.

Oliver's hips bucked and then he was driving into her over and over. He knew he was leaving bruises where he gripped her hips. Her heels dug into his arsecheeks as she pushed back against every thrust.

“Romy...” he began desperately.

“Yes!” she shouted and then she was coming all around him, her release dripping down his bollocks and running down his thighs.

Her inner convulsions dragged his orgasm from him. He sagged against her, spent.

“Welcome home,” she purred.


End file.
